Three Blinks

It's very difficult to get excited about these pergatorial pre-playoff bouts. Conversely, it's very easy to be riled by them.

Having made the laborious and fairly wet journey alone I was feeling markedly uninspired in the build-up to kick-off.

Alas, within seconds of the game starting, I was alive with the spirit of rage.

The sodden pitch, the black skies, the slurring natives. Forest didn't fancy this. Three blinks after the first whistle we fell behind. Another blink later we ballooned possession into the stands from the re-start.

The travelling faithful were silent, glum. Billy was nesting in the back of his dugout. Guy Moussi was literally hopping with fury as aimless balls whisped gaily and relentlessly over his head.

It looked like a long afternoon, and for the first half an hour I saw no way into the game.

The hosts looked disturbingly but unequivocally stronger. That trip to Wembley seemed a long way off.

But Bristol City have been noted for their sluggishness all season. The urgency drained, the natives receeded, the legs wearied.

I'll stop a fair bit short of saying the difference in quality started to show, but Moussi's inexplicable and brilliant equaliser swung them game in Forest's favour.

Without ever fitting into the shadow cast by the great Forest side of late 2009 we took charge of proceedings.

In the second half we increasingly bossed possession and carved open the wings. Joe Garner, in a rare appearance as a - hold on to your seats - centre forward, could and should have won it from three yards out.

And of course the game couldn't finish without an invitation for a little more scarlet-faced fury.

The City goalkeeper fled his goal like a reeling whippet and lunged into a 50-50 tackle with Nathan Tyson.

He came off badly in a challenge that could just as easily have shattered Tyson's glass legs.

But the referee brandished a yellow card, awarded the hosts a free-kick, and spent the eight minutes of stoppage time awarding sympathy free-kicks to protect the centre forward dinosaur who deputised between the posts.

If I may be churlish for a moment - he bottled it.

In fear of the flammable home crowd he began to question his decision to 'only' book Tyson and couldn't face a late winner.

Although it's probably just as well we didn't grab one. Given the sneering repugnance of the home supporters I fear I may have exploded with happiness if we'd won.

Strange things, these pre-playoff bouts.

Ratings:

Camp - 7
Chambers - 6
Wilson - 7
Morgan - 7
Gunter - 7

Boyd - 6.5
Moussi - 8
Perch - 7
Cohen - 6.5

McGoldrick - 6
Adebola - 6

Now for drinks.

Fog on the Tyne is all wet

Motorways, queues, service stations, lagers, loads of rain.

At one point there was a football match too but that bit was fairly dull.

Last night’s game surely consigns Forest to the play-off drama – and secures Newcastle’s promotion.

The mood at the end of the game was certainly one of finality.

Forest fans descending the 15,000 steps sang Que Sera Sera while the Newcastle supporters, newly awakened after their 70-minute slumber, slapped each other’s backs and planned for the Premiership.

The last time we sang the ubiquitous (and presumptuous) Wembley song Forest launched into an impossible unbeaten run and snaffled second spot.

I don’t see it happening again. But on a more positive note, at no point were Forest embarrassed.

It was a fairly solid performance across the board but the difference in quality was fairly obvious.

One or two of our players froze on stage and became preoccupied with trying to avoid mistakes, stunting our creativity. We can only hope this isn’t a precursor to a Wembley meltdown.

Deploying Tyson as a centre forward, and thus using him in his only viable position, could have changed the game.

The pitch at Newcastle looked as long as the stadium is tall and Tyson’s only real contribution was a burst of pace in the opening exchanges. On the wing he was hidden, or hiding, and his pace was rarely exploited.

It was a fair effort, but really it was far too easy for a side who should have been worried about playing us. The first goal ended the game.

And without wanting to sound like Billy Davies, two or three new faces in January – or even March – may have reduced the gap.

With the play-offs fast approaching we must address our away form as a matter of urgency. It will also be important to maintain our home form if we’re to bag a Wembley spot, but how we will adapt to our compromised ambitions remains to be seen.

The ‘famous’ Newcastle supporters were a fairly predictable brew of the jobless, brainless and hopeless. Quiet too, regardless of what the sycophants on TV may have said.

But the more affable sorts boozing in the town centre afterwards were predictably talkative and humble in victory. Significantly better company than the slurring chumps we see most weekends.

It’s the sort of trip to the sort of stadium we ought to be making more regularly. Here’s hoping.

Ratings:

Camp – 8 – several smart saves to keep us in the game.

Perch – 7 – far more suited to right-back, several eye-catching tackles and an improved all-round performance. But from where I was sitting, admittedly about nine miles above the pitch, he still looked lost.

Wilson – 7 – a solid performance overall

Morgan – 7 – seemingly dependable on any occasion

Gunter – 7 – caught wrong-footed several times on the left, but a Gunter operating at 60 per cent is preferable to Perch or Chambers lumbering in the same role

Anderson – 7 – never really found the freedom to make an impact, but he didn’t give up trying

Majewski – 7 – plenty of effort but little to show for it on the night

Moussi – 7 – improved distribution and a better all-round performance on the bigger pitch

Cohen – 5 – the usual blood and guts, but a lot of his passes seemed to end up in the wrong hands – or the crowd.

Tyson – 5.5 – up front or nothing as far as I’m concerned. He’s useless on the wing.

Blackstock – 7 – won plenty of headers but there was no way through.

Billy's World

The reason for Angry Bill’s ongoing rage is obvious.

For Billy Davies, the world and all of its elements are orbiting Billy Davies.

It is an uncompromising system of attack from a man whose success lies in relentlessly expecting the worst.

Every kick, every slide tackle, every cough and every splutter is a potential plaudit in his name. Likewise they hold the key to his downfall.

By January he saw glory and adulation within snatching distance. He heard the lauding of his name, tasted the satisfaction of proving critics wrong, revelled in the absolution for ‘that bloke from down the A50’.

In his mind the riches were stripped gracelessly from him by a lack of ambition from above.

Of course, he has a point. Three new signings at a cost of around £4m would probably have carried us over the finishing line - and he wants everybody to know about it.

I can almost see him on the Wembley turf, head cocked sideways to the camera, enthusiastically blaming defeat on ‘missed opportunities to strengthen’ and our ‘learning’ side.

It’s a symptom of a Billy Davies management, and one that endures in its appeal to those who grew exasperated to fury at Colin Calderwood’s meagre grovelling.

Another symptom is points growing on trees. Games like today’s would so often have ended in defeat under previous regimes, but the current Forest side has fostered the ability to spring a surprise.

It was a miserably wet afternoon. Heavy, oppressive and muggy, with bad smells lingering in the air. The match was a chore to watch and, evidently, a chore to play.

Peterborough were slow to start and looked every inch a League One side. But when our opening goal was out of the way they broke out of their chains and had a real go.

We defended both wings poorly, inviting attack, and our own advances were all too frequently into blind alleys and cul-de-sacs.
It was a non-event, sodden by teeming rain and further dampened with bickering and poor performances across the board.
But it was three points.

Everything is pointing towards another season in the Championship, but as long as Billy is at the helm there remains a distinct possibility that something ridiculous will happen.

His sides invariably have that ballistic capability.

He’s a miserable bugger and needs to stop moaning. But after all, the world does revolve around him...

Ratings:

Camp – 8 – a string of excellent saves to keep us in the match
Gunter – 6.5 – scrappy and got forward often, but he was too easy to pass at times.
Morgan – 7.5 – bison-esque, including trying to head a ball that was literally on the ground. The striker’s foot just bounced off his chops.
Wilson – 7.5 – a solid performance.
Perch – 6 – oh well, we’ll have to sign a left back on loan then... I wouldn’t be surprised if the outward hobble was scripted.

Anderson – 7.5 – at times he was our only outlet, despite having to feed on scraps.
Moussi – 6 – did a fairly good job of keeping things ticking over, but under Billy he seems to have been put on the leash. The livewire 75-yard crosses and miraculous wriggles have been replaced by an altogether more sensible Moose. I’m not sure I like it.
Majewski – 7.5 – always had a pass ready. Another individually competent performance in a midfield system that flopped. He and Moussi were too far apart, but he had a good game.
Cohen – 7 – the usual blood, guts and thunder.

Blackstock – 7 – a handful throughout, but no cutting edge.
Earnshaw – 7 – lively enough, stunted by his selfishness at times but he notched the winner.

Subs:
Chambers – 6
McCleary – 7
Adebola – 6.5

Beautifully Fickle

Of all the people.

You could almost see the knowing smirk filling Chambers’ chops as the cross sailed by the goalkeeper and landed on his forehead.

A long afternoon of clubbing balls into the stand and wrong-footing himself were forgotten in a second. Football at its best.

The unadulterated rage of the Swansea supporters still mourning the penalty decision was the icing on the cake. When I calmed down after three minutes of screaming I expected a further five of clinging for dear life.

But there were no such tribulations.

The game seemed to end a few seconds later and the job was done. And what an important job it may prove to be.

Every time I unfurl the white flag and brace for the play-offs Billy pulls another rabbit from his magic hat, sparking butterflies and wild thoughts.

West Brom are Championship heavyweights with a deep and proficient squad which should, at face value, have no problem storming over the line.

Newcastle, all of a sudden, are on a different planet.

Forest have a threadbare squad, minus a captain, with League One footballers stepping off the bench and plunging thousands of feet into an alien promotion charge.

Exactly one week ago the writing was on the wall, now Billy’s scrubbed it off again and anything seems possible - injuries or not.

Silly season is well and truly underway, and it makes a nice change for us to be at the sharp end of it.

Ratings:

Camp – 6 – a few dodgy clearances and an otherwise quiet afternoon.

Gunter – 7.5 – a spirited performance; dug in at the back and surged forward with real determination.

Chambers – 6 – not a defensive masterclass. If Wilson is out for weeks not days it will be a grave concern. But his goal could prove vital.

Morgan – 7 – found Kuqi a handful, but kept him quiet overall.

Cohen - 7 – better than Perch, but with McKenna crocked he may be needed elsewhere.

Anderson – 6.5 – let down by his failure to take on the last man. Again.

McKenna - /

Moussi – 6 – needs a water-carrier to set him loose, he isn’t a ‘midfield general’.

Boyd – 7 – flashes of excellence but there’s more to come.

Majewski – 6.5 – bewildered in the floating role, but fed on scraps and thrived in the 10 minutes before he was subbed.

Blackstock – 7 – did an important but thankless job of leading the line alone.

Subs:

McGugan – 6.5 – sloppy at times but he grew into the performance.
McGoldrick – 7
McCleary - 7

Bitter

To the eternal optimist our blood-and-balls slog against Sheffield United and Middlesbrough was the mark of a side grinding through adversity - as the triumphant invariably do.

To the discerning eye it was the paltry offerings of a spent force.

The reality is probably somewhere in between, and in any case we are far from crisis. But increasingly our fate seems mapped.

A run-in of false dawns, misplaced excitement, an exasperating stammer on our travels, and ultimately a ‘play-off lottery’ come six months late. Inevitably a summer of mourning our squandered January.

It all seems to make a lot more sense than the possibility of us surging into second place, and after a performance like today’s second half it’s a fait accompli that almost seems inviting.

I can’t put my finger on what went wrong. It just stopped. The second half display was not especially dreadful, it was just non-existent.

Leicester were fairly poor, an average side delivering a passable impression of a contender. It’s how they’ve thrived all season in a poor league.

But for at least 65 minutes of today’s game they had the upper hand simply by being on the pitch.

Forest started as though slowly waking from a long afternoon snooze, but by the end of the half the class was beginning to show. Cohen was beginning to burst through the centre, Blackstock had the measure of his hefty opponents and - as the bar rattled - we seemed to be on the cusp of glory.

Then came half-time. Effectively the end of the match.

At 0-1 our players did not relish the guts needed for a fightback, at 0-2 they couldn’t wait to get off the pitch, at 0-3 they sulked. And so did I.

The fact that it’s Leicester shouldn’t mean too much to a Forest fan. We’re the illustrious and apathetic statesmen, after all.

But it is impossible not to be shaken by the sight of so many revelling cross-breeds who, prior to the 70th minute, were among the most forlorn supporters we have seen in decades.

Never before has “you only sing when you’re winning” been more accurate.

And after the Forest fans respectfully and enthusiastically joined the minute’s applause for a man few of us have even heard of, it was somewhat galling to hear “where’s your Cloughie gone”, “Brian Clough, what a wanker” etc.

They're a bitter sort, Leicester fans. At the moment, so am I.

Ratings

Camp – 7 – quick off his line all game and not to blame for our meltdown. I didn’t see much of the free-kick but it beat him all ends up.

Gunter – 6.5 – caught short at the back a few times but did well on the overlap.

Wilson – 7 – a fairly solid performance, overall.

Morgan – 7 – reliable as ever, including a pitch-length dribble while his colleagues sulked.

Perch – 5 – not his worst performance, but he is a weakness and there is no way around it.

Anderson -5 – dismal, failed innumerable attempts to go past players and couldn’t get the ball under control.

McKenna – 5 – too many aimless balls and incomplete passes. If dropping him for a fortnight will bring him back to life then I’m all for it, not that we have much of an alternative.

Majewski – 6 – it didn’t really drop for him all afternoon.

Cohen – 6 – dreadful passing, but he covered a lot of ground and made some good runs in the first half.

Blackstock – 7 – an afternoon of doing his best with almost nothing.

Earnshaw – 5.5 – didn’t offer much.

Subs:

Tyson – 4.5 – didn’t offer anything.

McGoldrick – 5 – the usual.

Referee Lee Probert – 4 – a lot of referees are pedantic, but few are as smug about it. A catalogue of seemingly imaginary incidents.

An inquest heard

A football club which came within months of Premier League football for the first time in a decade failed to buy a single player in the January transfer window, an inquest has heard.

Nottingham Forest FC, aged 145, from West Bridgford, collapsed without warning in early February 2010 after a long spell of almost perfect health.

Dr William McIntosh Davies told Nottingham Coroner's Court the club was ‘making really positive steps’ in the run up to its death and had even found itself ‘in a really positive situation.’

“As far as Dr Davies was concerned this young club was on the rise” he added.

The court heard that paramedics found the club on its knees at an industrial estate near Coventry and pronounced it dead at the scene.

An autopsy later revealed several square pegs had been forced into round holes.

“Basically the club had just run out of legs” Dr Davies said.

“The Incoming Stock Committee were handed a very long list of remedies, but it seems that at some point between Christmas and the end of January that list was lost.”

Mark Arthur, the club’s full-time carer, told the court: “We made valiant attempts to address points made on the list, but the remedies proved elusive.

“If Dr Davies is interested in arranging to borrow some of them in the short-term we are still more than happy to assist him.”

In his summary Coroner Nick Kerrs told the court he had ‘absolutely no doubts’ about the cause of the club’s downfall and recorded a verdict of suicide.

Ends


After two dubious performances and a familiar bout of internal turmoil, tonight’s game seemed somewhat ‘do or die’.

If it was, we’re dead.

Contrary to earlier reports we may even have been dead before the game started. Forest were present in body but not in mind, and the same applies to our travelling supporters.

The physical appearance of lumbering red shapes may have implied otherwise, but absolutely nobody from Nottingham turned up.

A 15-minute spell at the start of the second half brought faint promise as Coventry questioned their own solidarity. But our rhythm was cruelly interrupted by the referee collapsing beneath his beer gut.

What followed was sheer farce. Perhaps it’s an ardent, deep-seated sexism talking but I found his female substitute hysterically inadequate.

The six minutes of stoppage time represented compensation for half of what we were owed, and Coventry gobbled up another half of that as players eagerly writhed on the turf.

But we can blame nobody but ourselves. It was a dispirited, lethargic, sulky performance from a side that was second best all night.

The Championship is a frenzied place and in three weeks we may well have the champagne on ice again.

Blips are to be expected in such a marathon season, and even if it is a blip which destroys fall hopes of second spot we will scarcely have cause for complaint.

But it increasingly seems that our idle January will again leave us fretting over what might have been.


RIBs (Ratings in Brief)

Camp – 7 – spectacular save immediately before the goal. Couldn’t keep it out but wasn’t at fault.

Gunter – 6.5 – one too many sliced clearances, but a fairly steady performance.

Morgan – 7 – a creditable performance, thwarted by occasional aimless distribution.

Wilson – 7 – all at sea once or twice in the first half, but he’s not the reason we lost.

Cohen – 6.5 – a waste at left back, but immediately better-suited than Perch.

Garner – 4.5 – I don’t blame him, but there is nothing about his game which suggests he is a suitable winger. He hates his football at the moment and
couldn’t wait to leave the field, but has the season been so bad that the ironic cheers were necessary? Thought not.

McKenna – 5.5 – plenty of looping side-footers, spiralling into no man’s land. Has Ian Breckin returned as coach?

Moussi – 5 – his reluctance to move with the ball slowed us down at times and he failed in his responsibility to release the wingers.

Majewski – 6.5 – dire first half, but he found his tricks (and presumably got his head right...) in the second.

Anderson – 5.5 – a fairly anonymous evening.

Blackstock – 7.5 – worked well with limited resources.

Subs:

Earnshaw – 5
McGoldrick - 5
McGugan – 5

A word on our venue for the evening. The Ricoh Arena is the only stadium in the world which captures perfect silence and stalls the movement of sound. Ironic jeers from the home supporters invariably arrived three minutes after a chant or on-field incident, as if delivered by pigeons.

The leg room, however, I found exemplary.

This is what we don’t want in Nottingham if England 2018 gets the nod.

Unpretty

It wasn’t pretty, not even close. But after a week of ball-breaking, hair-tugging, fist-clenching frustration it was exactly what we needed.

I felt more down-and-out in the build up to this afternoon’s clash than I did at the end of last week’s.

The comradery and unanimous spirit of resilience that followed our Pride Park meltdown has been stretched to breaking point.

First Raging Bill’s “long list of targets” was snipped to a paltry three by the Transfer Mafia, who subsequently called in sick on deadline day for what felt like the 20th successive January.

Radoslaw Majewski was left feeling alone and unloved, West Brom continued their revival and – after appearing vaguely catchable for a week or so – Newcastle demolished a promotion rival to remind the rest of us why signing players in January is a good idea.

Yes, we needed points. And for a long time it looked as though we weren’t going to get them.

Under Irvine Shefiled Wednesday [see City Ground scoreboard] are what a smug pundit might call a ‘well-oiled machine’.

With McKenna under the cosh, and with a congested midfield and stubborn defence to contend with, we were blunted for the second game running. Progress was hardly aided and abetted by our redundant left flank.

What appeared to be a dubious penalty gave us a vital lift, but it was not a catalyst for the magic to return. This was all about patience and balls.

It was the worst home performance in some time; scrappy, stunted, and flat. But a hopeless optimist may point to the fact that this is exactly the right point of the season to start playing badly and raiding points regardless.

To concede a late equaliser against a form side and still recover to win is not the mark of a falling side.

Our wheels may have creaked a little this week, but they haven’t come off just yet.

The most satisfying moment of the afternoon was flying down the concrete steps to goad the Wednesday fans - launching straight into a potentially fatal mass of writhing idiots.

Football can be cruel at times, but we’ve been in their boots often enough.

Ratings:

Camp – 7.5 – some poor kicking, but he gobbled up everything and kept a cool head under pressure.

Gunter – 7 – dogged performance. Job done.

Morgan – 7.5 – Iron Wes delivers again.

Wilson – 7.5 – dependable and cool-headed.

Perch – 6 – spirited second half display as we dug in for the win, but his backward passing and frenzied dislike of possession are an ongoing concern.

Cohen – 7 – his mileage proved useful late on.

Moussi – 7 – a frustrating game for Moussi as opponents swarmed, but he picked out a few decent passes and kept going.

McKenna – 6 – has lost his magic wand in recent weeks.

Tyson – 6 – with a left-back entirely devoid of the ability to play forward balls he was never likely to be busy.

Earnshaw – 6 – a poor game by his own standards, including some very bizarre touches (Tyson-esque, I daresay).

Blackstock – 8 – did the business where it mattered most.

Subs:

Anderson – 7.5
Adebola – 7
McGoldrick – 7

Referee – 3 – don’t come again.